


in lieu of tranquility and self-regard

by Kiiyoshi



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Biting, Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Body Horror, Established Relationship, F/M, Possessive Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:41:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28373322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiiyoshi/pseuds/Kiiyoshi
Summary: He long renounced the Otherworld after reclaiming his sanity, but it clings to him even now like a well-deserved curse. He would be content to suffer alone if that meant atonement, if only he hadn't forgotten that his brother had taken a lemming for a vassal, and one that he's unfortunately grown very fond of.—In which Aglovale has needs and Djeeta is all too eager to give herself if it means helping a... companion.
Relationships: Aglovale/Djeeta (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	in lieu of tranquility and self-regard

Hellfire wrenches him from his sleep and drags him onto his feet until he’s stumbling towards the door. It consumes him, burns away the resistance he’s carefully built during the past few months in which he smothered the demons haunting every corner of his mind.

He destroyed it, severed the pact, salvaged his pride, so why? Why does it compel him even now in the unholiest of ways?

Aglovale catches himself before he can fully collapse against the door, but the resulting _thud_ of his fists is loud enough to catch the attention of the guard posted outside.

“My lord?”

“Bring me the captain... _now_ ,” he commands through gritted teeth, his voice steady unlike everything else about him. “And you’ll speak a word of this to nobody.”

“Yes, my lord,” comes the uncertain reply and only when the march of ironclad footsteps fades does he allow himself to waver, his breath leaving him in labored gasps.

It’s not long before he senses the skyfaring captain on the other side of the door. Perhaps she rushed when she realized who summoned her, or perhaps he was simply too busy struggling with himself to accurately note the flow of time, but nonetheless, she is here and the blood scalding his veins seems to smile.

Djeeta knocks, but allows herself in all the same. She must know why she’s here, so he skips the pleasantries and shoves her to the ground after she closes the door not a moment too soon, the sound of fabric ripping splitting the air as he wrenches the collar of her nightgown well past her shoulder.

Her skin is pure white in the moonlight and he is no longer a king as he salivates over her like a rabid beast. Reverence and hunger for her unmarred flesh arise in his chest while his gut writhes in utter disgust for what is about to happen. Bringing his mouth to her shoulder in one swift motion, he stops himself short of sinking his teeth into her while his chest heaves with the strain.

A moment passes before he feels the tension leave her body, the last of his resolve crumbling when she turns her head to wordlessly bare her neck.

He finally pierces her skin with his teeth and she gasps, the sound of it music to his ears. Her blood is hot as it flows into his mouth and he drinks and drinks, intent to forgo air until he’s left gasping against her skin, his tongue messily catching the stray drops of blood as his hoarse breaths punctuate the silence.

“Hey... breathe now,” Djeeta says and he feels her running her hand over the back of his head. They’re the first words she says to him that night. “It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.”

He does as she says, swallowing here and there to force himself to slow down. She continues stroking his hair and he follows her rhythm until his head no longer spins from that brief throe of madness.

Only when he’s somewhat stable again does he manage to pull his mouth away. Honey-brown eyes reflect the glow of his own, and in her depths he sees the red that stains his chin. Disgust returns to him threefold, and he grits his teeth together, the sweet iron of her blood still in his mouth as he lifts a shaking hand to his face.

But Djeeta does not allow him to hide. She catches his wrist in her hand, pulling it away with surprising strength despite the fresh gash on her shoulder. There’s a drop of pain in her expression when she moves, but the way she smiles at him nearly breaks him to pieces.

“It hurts a little less now, right?” She pulls on him but he does not budge.

“It is satiated,” he lies and he’s nearly surprised that his voice remains his own. “I’ve no need—”

“You’re not,” she says and he’s both bitter and grateful for her tenacity. “Take it all now so you don’t rip another hole in me tomorrow night.” And her occasional frankness.

She tilts her head back to grant him better access, and he hates the way his body responds, the way the countless voices in his head murmur with excitement as he draws closer to that open wound. The power of the Omnipotent runs in her veins—it both stimulates and extinguishes the demons that claw at his thoughts during every waking, and sometimes sleeping, hour he spends in her absence.

But in this state of his, none of it matters to him. Djeeta is here now and she holds him as if she were a lover. She’s warm against the chill of his skin, and the rhythm of her pulse against his lips only makes him all the more greedier to sap that warmth for himself.

She agreed to this, and that is why he called for her. If not for that, then…

Those unnecessary thoughts leave his head again when she shifts below him, and he finds himself lifting her into a more comfortable position as he swallows another mouthful of that ambrosia. In his haze, he’s euphoric as her warmth spreads throughout the far reaches of his body, quieting the voices that plague him and quelling the fire that eats at him. What more can he do but savor the taste she’s reserved for him alone?

_Parasite._

The thought flashes in his mind’s eye and he tears himself away a second time, gasping again as he digs his nails into his own temples, but Djeeta doesn’t allow him to stray far when her arms are around his neck, shoving away the hands that threaten to break open his own skin.

_Abhorrent._

“It’s okay.”

_Monster_.

“It’s okay,” she says louder as she tightens her hold on him. “It’s okay, Aglovale. _Breathe..._ please?”

He does just that, but he’s yet to find a moment of respite for himself between the Otherworld and his own conscience.

“...So you’ll both feed me and comfort me,” he croaks against her uninjured shoulder. “Do you… do you enjoy seeing me in such an irredeemable state?”

Djeeta pulls away from him, one hand resting on his shoulder while the other slides down the length of his arm to grasp his own. Blood still trickles from her wound, staining the silk of her ruined dress while a fresh bruise blossoms from beneath the crimson. He grimaces at the sight of it, averting his gaze.

The Otherworld remains silent, but his disgust does not.

“I was wondering why you hadn't called on me until now, and it turns out you've been holding back this entire time,” she says, ignoring his own question. “Aglo… I said I’d help and I mean it.”

“Help” could hardly describe what she’s agreed to do ever since she became aware of his… _affliction_ , but her determination compels him all the same as he traces the edge of her bruises. He notes the way she shudders just the slightest bit, and only then does he realize that the rest of her is shaking. He closes his fist.

He could have killed her. All it would take is a misplaced bite, a bite placed too deeply, a single lapse in his awareness to push past the point of no return, but he knows she would simply shrug it off if he said any of this out loud, claiming something along the lines that she’s died before and that she’s perfectly fine now. Even her nightgown has slipped far enough down her arm for him to catch a glimpse of the terrible scar on her chest—a reminder as to why it has to be _her_. 

“I bet you’re scolding me in your head,” she murmurs as she lets herself careen into his chest. “There’s nothing you have to redeem yourself for if I want to help you, Aglo.”

There must have been a time when those words would enrage him, where he’d accuse her of taking pity on him, or that she’d only extend a hand with ulterior motives in mind. Yet all he can do now is wrap his arms around her tiny frame to hold her still, watching as the ends of her hair slip from between his fingers.

_“When you meet someone in trouble, I want you to ask them if they need help.”_

Her goodwill should be reserved for those who would repay her kindness in turn, people like his brother, not him. But as she rumbles against his chest, he can’t help but believe in the naivety he used to scorn.

“Why is this something you want?”

She stops for a moment, thinking. “... Do I need a reason? You’re important to me.”

He closes his eyes, resigning himself to her will, even if only for the night. She purrs and he feels her smiling against him as her hands climb up the length of his back, rubbing soothing circles to work out the last of the tension in his body.

“Hehe... you’re warm, Aglo.”

  
  
  


——

  
  
  


“We’re… we’re not overstaying our welcome, are we?” Lyria asks over breakfast the next morning, a forkful of pancake in one hand with a glass of milk in the other.

Aglovale tilts his head, lowering his own fork before Djeeta realizes she’d been watching him eat for the past minute. “Has something happened to lead you to believe so?”

“Oh, no no no,” Lyria quickly says, waving her hands and sending droplets of syrup and milk flying through the air. “You just look like you’re worried about something, that’s all.”

Percival doesn’t leave her to flounder on her own for too long. “She’s right, Brother. If there is any hint of trouble, you know the captain and I would do everything in our power to help.”

Aglovale smiles despite their eyes on him. “There is no need to be so dramatic, but it appears I’ve grown too comfortable and my unseemliness has caused you worry.”

Before either of them can protest, a guard appears, whispering something into the king’s ear, and just as she expects, Aglovale sighs and rises from his seat, lifting a hand to keep any of them from following suit. “Remain seated and enjoy the rest of your breakfast. It’ll not make up for my ungraciousness, but I’ll have Tor arrange an itinerary to keep your afternoon busy. And to think I could enjoy a morning meal with my brother and his vassals uninterrupted… Now if you’ll excuse me.”

They watch him leave, and when their king is no longer within earshot, a few brazen guards break into the faintest of murmurs.

_“Word about His Majesty’s ties with the Otherworld is spreading throughout town.”_

_“It’s no wonder the people are beginning to question his trustworthiness if they think he almost brought Wales to ruin—”_

He doesn’t get the chance to finish when Percival barks at the pair to return to their posts, a stern warning in his voice and expression that he better not catch them engaging in such drivel again. Djeeta frowns too, but she can only sit there in thoughtful silence with the edge of her fork pressed to her lip.

Had she been too careless, or had word already spread long before their arrival?

  
  
  


——

  
  
  


She reaches out, thumb pressing against the creases of his brow before she runs her fingers over the apples of his cheeks. Like before, his eyes are glowing, but unlike before, he isn’t tearing into her after nearly pushing himself to starvation.

Instead, he deigns to trace the pair of crescent-shaped scars that now adorns her shoulder, his touch gentle as it usually is. He’s summoned her to his room several times now and sometimes they spend a moment in silence like this, studying each other's bodies with the gingerness of something uncertain.

When she runs a knife over her palm and holds it out to him, something strange seizes within her as she watches him fall to his knees to lap greedily at the blood that pools into the creases of her hand. He’s not himself when hunger overtakes him and Djeeta can’t help but gasp when he presses his tongue to the cut, sending a jolt of electricity up the length of her arm.

She doesn’t dislike it.

His mouth is hot, his tongue just as much, and his teeth are sharp but gentle as they scrape against her skin in their desperation to catch every drop from her wound. As she watches him drink from her hand, she can’t help but reach forth with her other to slowly stroke his hair while soft words of encouragement fall from her lips.

When he pulls away, perhaps she’s not quite herself either as she leans forward to claim his mouth for herself.

  
  
  


——

  
  
  


The markings splayed over and across his skin are too defined and too deliberate to be bruises. She carefully traces one that snakes across his chest as she studies the oddly-shaped scars arranged all over his torso. Unlike the ones that litter her own body, it’s as if someone had carved them into his skin with a specific pattern in mind.

“Has it… has it always been like this?”

“Ever since the pact,” he answers easily and with a mirthless smile. “Perhaps the body I was so eager to sacrifice will never be completely mine again.”

Before she can respond, she feels something squirm from beneath his skin and she yelps, snatching her hand back. Aglovale chuckles and it’s a dry and listless sound.

“I—did I, did that hurt you?”

He offers her another smile, but there’s something pained buried deep within it. “So that’s what worries you, not that I am a monster in both demeanor and appearance.”

She’s touching him again and stubbornly at that. “Why would I be worried about something that isn’t true?”

Aglovale doesn’t answer her, but something else squirms beneath her touch, drawing her attention just in time for her to witness one of the “scars” split open, revealing a pale blue eye that gazes lifelessly at her. Without saying a word, he further parts the folds of his “scar”, digging his fingers into it while the eyeball spasms violently in its socket.

She reaches. “Aglo—!”

“If only you feared me just a bit more.” He catches her and pins her to the bed. “If only my foolish brother guarded you just a bit more closely—between this gruesome appearance and these thoughts that cross my mind, do you still believe such a thing?”

“...You’re not a monster,” she replies, almost in defiance of the eyes embedded where they shouldn’t be. “No matter… no matter what, you’re still someone who’s important to me, Aglo.”

Through the doubt that still clings to his heart, something softens in his gaze and she finds her arms around his neck again. 

“You’ll always be.”

  
  
  


—— 

  
  
  


He only meant to take her blood.

He only meant to take her blood, but she had forgotten her knife in her room, and when he rose to find something else, she caught him by the sleeve, her head bowed while the nightgown he left half-undone slipped further down her shoulder.

Something must have overcome him at the time, but she’s clinging to him now as he finds his mouth on her breast, sucking feverishly while he kneads the other against the palm of his hand. When he runs his tongue over her nub, circling it once, she keens and arches further into him, drawing a growl of pleasure from deep within.

_Mine_.

She’s warm, soft, and pliant in his mouth but it’s not enough and she cries out as he bites into her, fingers burying themselves into his scalp as he laps up the blood flowing from the fresh wound on her breast.

“ _A-Aglovale…_ ”

Ah, she dropped that nickname of his. The part of him that can still think, that protests when he leaves bruises in his wake wonders if she’ll ask him to stop.

But she simply gazes down at him, her eyes glassy and her cheeks flushed while she silently pleads not for him to stop, but for something _more_. A chuckle escapes his bloodstained lips as he reaches up to stroke the delicate curve of her cheek, fingers traveling lower until they rest upon her scars.

Of course he’ll treat her well, the pale glow of his eyes seems to smile. She’s given him gift after gift, what else can he do but indulge her?

Her gown bunches around her waist as he leans back to settle on his haunches. She whimpers for the warmth he takes with him, but he doesn’t leave her lacking for long before he takes one of her legs and rests it over his shoulder, grinning as he nuzzles her inner thigh.

Djeeta shudders, goosebumps lining her skin as he nibbles here and there, teasing her and pausing as if to ask a question. Shall he claim her here… or here? Her pulse thrums with anticipation and he too can hardly reign in his budding excitement.

Another keen brings him back to her. That’s right, he was in the middle of something else, wasn’t he?

Her panties tear easily in his grip and he tosses aside the useless scrap of fabric before running a pair of fingers over his tongue to wet them. Eyes widening, Djeeta reflexively brings her knees together but it’s a clumsy effort with his shoulders in the way. Parting her legs once more with laughable ease, he clicks his tongue.

“ _Be good for me now._ ”

He plunges his fingers deep inside of her and the sheets twist around her limbs as she arches off the bed, moaning. She trembles around him and he drinks in the way she twists and writhes with every stroke. For all the fight he knows she possesses, how fascinating it is that all it takes is a single curl of his fingers to draw another cry from her throat.

_All mine._

He stretches her with one hand, slipping in a third digit to coax another whine out of her before he starts mouthing her thigh once more. His hunger lurches within him as her wetness squelches between his fingers and pools between her legs—how much of it is the demons’ and how much of it is his own is left to the night as he sinks his teeth into the meat of her thigh.

A sob finally wrests itself free from her mouth as blood dribbles from his own. Sheer ecstasy stitches itself into every one of his senses as her warmth swells and splashes over his tongue while he continues thrusting his fingers in and out of her. 

“ _Ah—A-Aglo…!_ ” He answers her cries by burying his fingers even deeper within her, curling and pressing them against the tremble of her walls as she reaches her first climax of the night, her heat trickling out and collecting in the hollow of his palm. He eases her through the last of it before he finally takes his hand away, allowing her leg to slide from his shoulder as she lies sprawled before him, chest heaving.

She is _his_ , and the thought alone brings forth a murmur of pleasure from within his depths, but whatever else follows abandons him in that very moment when she reaches for him with both arms, the distant embers of her own desire burning lowly within her eyes.

_Djeeta._

He wordlessly closes the distance between them and kisses her deeply, savagely, nearly shoving her flush against the headboard as his hands work quickly to free his lower body from his pants. 

When he presses his heat to her own, she whimpers against his lips while her legs wrap around his waist, inviting him in deeper. 

“ _All of it… please,”_ she keens.

He pulls away, if only to gaze upon her features as he buries himself up to the hilt inside of her. She moans softly, eyelids fluttering as she takes him, and he cradles her face with tenderness that surprises even himself.

_Desire_.

Those bright, sparkling eyes are the same ones that believe in his kindness and he wonders distantly if she still thinks him gentle when he thumbs away her tears. As he slowly begins to move, hand pressed to her womb, isn’t he defiling her? 

The idea of it brings a smile to his face.

She cries as he quickens his pace, her fingers trembling and aching as they climb up the back of his shoulders. She brushes against his “scars” as she passes them until she’s clinging to him again, tangled in his hair as he continues ravaging her insides, the head of his cock pounding against the mouth of her womb.

She’s so hot around him that it nearly drives him crazy, her walls tight and trembling despite being stretched just moments earlier. Pleasure thrums in his veins while the remnants of his pact throb to the rhythm of their pulse as he lays claim to her, his cock fucking the very captain who once defied him while she can only cry from beneath him.

Her fingers dig into his back as she clutches him tighter. “ _A-Aglovale, I’m...I’m—!_ ”

He growls lowly into her ear as he slams into her, his own mounting pleasure coiling within his depths while Djeeta’s own quivers as she teeters on the edge.

“ _Come for me,_ then _,”_ he commands, feeling merciful.

Djeeta sobs, her face buried in his shoulder as she does just that, her insides convulsing around his heat as he rocks her through the throes of her orgasm. Her embrace clings to him, and he finally lets go, releasing his seed deep within her before her grip goes slack as his hips slow to a gentle rhythm. She collapses back against the bed, satisfaction simmering within her half-lidded eyes as she watches him ride out the rest of his pleasure.

Semen dribbles from her exhausted slit when he pulls out, his fingers still spread across her lower belly as he drinks in her worn-out form splayed before him. It’s quiet, the flames no more than a tingle as he feels his “scars” twitch and squirm in hopes of gleaning the sight of her for themselves.

It’s a dreadful thing isn’t it, to be violated by a monster, he thinks, but Djeeta does not leave him to those thoughts for long when she reaches up despite her exhaustion. Her hand presses to his chest, fingers tracing and following the upward path of his deformities until she’s cupping his cheek.

Even now those heat-drunk eyes gaze upon him with such faith while her lips move slowly to form quiet words.

“ _I love you_.”

  
  
  


——

  
  
  
  


She wakes to birdsong and her head resting on a familiar lap. The hand gently stroking her hair comes to a stop as she stirs, peering up to find Aglovale smiling softly down at her. She returns the gesture.

“Good morning,” he says, the baritone of his voice a welcome sound to wake up to.

“Good morning, Aglo,” she replies. “...Did you sleep?”

“I decided not to pass up the sight that is your peaceful face,” he says without a hint of shame, chuckling lightly when she flushes a deep pink.

Grumbling, she tries to pull the sheets up and over her head only to wince as the rest of her body protests. Glancing down, she finds herself littered with bruises and blemishes where the other must have healed her wounds from last night. She feels his concerned gaze on her.

Djeeta feels her cheeks burn yet again. She knows why he’s worried, but the idea of complimenting the King of Wales on his fucking would send her scurrying into the closet in embarrassment if it weren’t for how comfortable his lap was. 

Fortunately, he seems to get the idea when he chuckles again, tucking her hair behind her ear. “And to think that you were completely innocent.”

Djeeta swats his hand away. “F-Forget about it! Don’t think about it!”

He laughs again, rising to his feet while she bites back a complaint asking him to stay and keep her warm. “I’ll have breakfast brought to the door while you take the time to recover. Worry not, I’ll take care of your companions’ concerns… As well as my brother’s.”

She isn’t sure if she trusts him with that, but—ah, who is she kidding. His bed is too comfortable and she knows well by now how delicious breakfast is within the castle, but now that she thinks about it, isn’t her own wellbeing the least of her problems right now? “Don’t you need the rest more than me?”

Aglovale shrugs his robes back over his shoulders, folding the flaps over his front and tying it in place so that his scars from the Otherworld remain hidden. “Rest will come. There is work to be done and it’s about time I properly face the consequences of my actions... without taking anything more from you.”

Djeeta’s heart drops when she remembers the gossip she overheard the other day. So it’s true then. Even those closest to him weren’t above questioning His Majesty despite everything he’d done for them and the country, and the thought of it has her grinding her teeth together. Of course he wouldn’t have been able to sleep if this was what occupied his thoughts for who knows how long.

“...It’s not fair.”

The tremor in her voice has him turning around just in time to catch sight of her falling tears. His usually reserved exterior fails him when he rejoins her side in an instant, concern laced in his expression. “Djeeta?”

“It’s not fair,” she repeats, wiping angrily at her tears. “You work harder than anyone else, and you’ve already made up for it! So why?”

"...Childish even now, aren't you?" His gaze softens in understanding as he gently combs back her hair. “Unfortunately, you cannot decide that. Some things are not so easily wiped away with an apology or a little good behavior.”

She sniffles. “But—”

Aglovale presses a finger to her lips, smiling without a hint of deceit. “ _But_ , save your ceaseless concerns if you think a little gossip is enough to undermine my pride and kingdom. Do you think I brought Wales to where it is now without facing a single ounce of opposition?”

He has a point. Politics are usually beyond her, but she’s spent enough time leading a crew to know that leadership wasn’t always a smooth ride. She shakes her head.

“Then you’ll know that I’ll address these concerns and dispel them as I’ve always done. I have no intention of loosening my grip on this throne or abandoning my responsibilities, even if my dignity has failed you a number of times.”

Djeeta lowers her gaze and Aglovale takes his finger away, satisfied.

“...You’ll still call for us when you need our help, right?”

He hums, returning to idly stroking her hair as if he’d forgotten about getting ready. “Hm?”

“I… I can’t stay here,” she says. “But I’ll always come for you if you call me. You know that, right?”

Another smile as his honeyed scarlet gleams with appreciation. “Yes, I know.”

Warmth overcomes the worry within her breast, and as she leans forward, Aglovale meets her halfway to take her lips with his own. It’s a promise, and his pulse thrums in sync with her own, his breath within her gentle as if to say “ _Thank you._ ”


End file.
